


It Comes And Goes.

by joddity



Category: Pinky and the Brain
Genre: Blood and Injury, Brinky, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Telekinesis, but you're welcome to interpret this as you wish!, no beta we die like men, pinky's gonna need more therapy after this, tbh i i font see them as fully platonic or romantic, this is a prewritten fic so dw about it being abandoned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:46:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29501517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joddity/pseuds/joddity
Summary: S1 Episode 11, Fly. Pinky levitates an assortment of fruit out of a bowl, but loses control over them as soon as Brain turns back around. Well, it's not like anything is ever going to depend on that odd ability of his anyhow.Until it does, that is.
Relationships: Brain/Pinky (Pinky and the Brain)
Comments: 57
Kudos: 65





	1. In Which Old Mother West Wind is A Dick

Pinky’s arms felt like they were going to fall off at any given moment with the way they burned. He panted out another ragged breath, hauling himself up a few more inches. He was sure that at this point, the rope burn was inevitable, and found himself wishing desperately for the grippy-tracky gloves he’d made for the two of them. Unfortunately, both pairs had been sent spiralling downwards to the street below the last time they stopped to rest, Pinky’s cheerfully wagging tail accidentally knocking them off the ledge they were precariously perched upon. The bop he’d received for that little whoopsie had been quite fun, but the repercussions were not. 

His legs flailed for purchase on the concrete sill for one, heart stopping moment, then Pinky dragged himself over the edge, not bothering to hide his poor lungs’ struggle for air. Readjusting his head so he was no longer face planting into concrete, he saw Brain looked no better off than he did. His friend looked exhausted, arms trembling slightly and eyes staring unseeingly off into the distance as his chest heaved. 

“Erm, Brain. Are you absolutely sure that we can’t use some other sky-strippy thingy’s lightning rod?”

The Brain, despite lacking the energy to pull it off with his usual vexation, rolled his eyes. “Yes Pinky, I’m sure. The Empire State Building is the only skyscraper tall enough for my plan to succeed, additionally it is the only one with a lightning rod.”

Pinky sat himself up and scootched closer to Brain. “But why can’t we just use the elevator like all those funny little business people do, why do we have to climb up the side of The Empire Strikes Back? Poit!” he pouted, pointing at the ant-like humans down below. Brain peered over the ledge, following his finger.

“Pinky I can only hope you know what the word perspective means,” he sighed, “and we can’t use the elevator because the administration has been having a rodent problem recently and just put down pesticides, I didn’t want to risk us falling ill.”

Pinky frowned, opening his mouth to speak when Brain suddenly cut him off.

“And before you ask, no, the man suit is not available, not after that little stunt you pulled in it last time, remember?” (he didn’t remember) Brain glowered, before slowly getting to his feet, brushing off any rogue dirt that dared settle on his white fur. There was never actually any dirt on him, Pinky mused, his coat was always spotless, yet every time Brain stood up he had to dust himself off. Maybe he had a lot of dust on him when he was a baby! And now he had phantom dust, like amputees have phantom limbs! 

“PINKY.”

The taller mouse whipped his head around to where Brain had been standing only moments ago, surprised to find him already re-harnessed and securing their rope to the next level. The shorter mouse raised an eyebrow at him expectantly, sending Pinky scrambling to his feet. 

“Righto, Brain! NARF.” he chirped, grabbing a hold of the rope and cinching it with a practiced ease around his waist. Well, if nothing else good was to come of this attempt at world conquest, then at least all this exercise will be good for his figure. Tightening his grip on the rope, he hopped onto the wall, quickly adjusting his tail so it wouldn’t drag him back down.  
He’d just found his footing when a gust of wind came ripping around the corner of the building, barreling into the two lab mice as if they were nothing more than the last leaves of autumn, still futilely clinging to their branches. Pinky let out a yell that was immediately dragged away by the wind, swinging wildly from his rope. He’d completely given up on trying to get his position back, instead putting all his energy into not letting go of his life line under any circumstances. Thankfully, that particularly vicious burst of weather moved on not long after it appeared, leaving Pinky to smack into the side of the building. Ow. Note to self, concrete body slams are not nearly as fun as head bops. Forgoing the mourning of his previously unharmed body (hey when you get beat up practically every night, the painless moments are to be savoured), Pinky searched the sky above him for Brain. Not a moment too soon, Brain reappeared into his line of sight with a slightly deranged sounding yell as he, too, was unceremoniously deposited into the wall. Pinky heard him grumble something incoherently, but he was too busy getting out of his dangling position to pay him much mind. 

“Are you alright Brain?” He called out distractedly, firmly planting one paw on a window sill. He watched the slight breeze ruffle the tufts of fur on his chest. For being January, it was uncomfortably nippy. He figured it must be his being so used to Californian weather. 

Having finished peeling himself off the wall, Brain gave the affirmative, and they set off once again. They had only gone a few steps before Pinky started to worry. Was this safe? What if something happened to the rope?? He felt his stomach give a little flip as he dared look over his shoulder, blue eyes met with a sprawling cityscape that a mouse should never be high up enough to see. The last time he could remember being up so high they had been performing in the Space Needle (or was it the Space Beetle, he never could recall), and even that hadn’t been nearly as tall as where they were now. 

They may have survived a shocking number of trials in their nightly escapades, and Pinky may be a glutton for punishment, but even he knew that a fall from this height would be something they couldn’t come back from. He stalled on his climb for a moment to catch his breath, a bit anxious about the whole ordeal.

“Brain? Braaaain? Brai-”

“What is it Pinky?” Brain snapped, glaring impatiently at him over his shoulder. “And you can climb while you speak Pinky, we must make haste!” he added, turning back around. Pinky could tell he was still listening though, his rounded ears were doing that subtle little twitching motion they made whenever he was paying attention to something. 

“Yes about that, do you really think this is—zort—safe?” he pointed out. “I mean with that HUUUUGE wind just now-”

Brain took a paw off the rope to wave dismissively in Pinky’s general direction. “An understandable concern Pinky, but unique as these circumstances are, this wind is, in actuality, excellent news.” He paused to climb a few more lengths, breathing heavily. 

“You see, the presence of these great gusts informs us that the large storm system we need is right on schedule, just as I predicted.” He added with a hint of smugness colouring his voice. Pinky felt a small smile appear on his face as he watched Brain’s tail do that funny little jumpy motion it made whenever he was in an especially good mood. He only understood about half of the words that were just thrown at him, but he trusted Brain’s confidence. If he knew they were on the right track, then Pinky knew too. 

“Hooray for the big scary wind!!” Pinky cheered, sudden exuberance diminished only by his breathlessness. Brain rolled his eyes, echoing Pinky’s sentiment in a far less enthused manner. Seeing Brain proud of his handiwork gave him a little boost of adrenaline that made the final push to the next resting point a bit less of a challenge. Usually distractions were a common problem for the lanky mouse, but right now, hoisting his exhausted body onto the waiting ledge on trembling arms, his mind was blissfully quieted. 

There is a point when physical exertion takes similar effect in the brain as in the body, and the two mice were far past that point by now. Pinky, who had stopped moving immediately after he was securely sprawled over the adequately accommodating ledge, side eyed Brain. The shorter mouse had quite clearly abandoned all pretenses of rescuing his dignity, choosing instead to flop down on his back and stay there until there was no choice but to get up. 

Pinky and his adamantly complaining muscles wholeheartedly agreed with that sentiment. 

The afternoon was rapidly turning into evening, and with it the warm, yellow-grey of the concrete shifted to a cooler red. Though his face was rather uncomfortably smushed into the rock, he couldn’t bring himself to care as he watched the dark, purple clouds inch their way across the sky. Being able to sit still enough to be able to observe nature was a rare occurrence for Pinky, and his wearied mind promptly took advantage of it, hoping to save snapshots of all those pretty colors before they were eaten up by nightfall. 

The blackened storm clouds marched towards them at a steady pace, snapping and crackling menacingly to fill the odd moment of silence in the New York City hubbub. A low, ominous rumble snapped the two lab mice from their state, both hurriedly righting themselves. Brain’s brow was furrowed as his fingers stumbled over the knot tied at his waist. Never one to miss the opportunity to touch, Pinky abandoned his own rope to take over untying his friends. Brain may have gone a little red underneath his fur, but if he did, then Pinky certainly wasn’t going to comment on it. 

“Thank you Pinky, my ah, extremities seem to be a little uncooperative after all this abuse.” he choked out, looking anywhere that wasn’t his partner. Pinky straightened, patting Brain’s hip lightly before turning away to toss the troublesome rope over their next destination. 

“There you go Brain, all better!” he paused a moment, an expression of dawning realization coming over his face. “Ohhhh so is that why we had to stop romping around back in the cage last ni-?”

“Perhaps it would be best if we were to set off.” Brain monotoned through gritted teeth, giving Pinky an emphatic bop to the head, closely followed by the sound of delighted cackling punctuated with a narf. The lanky mouse giggled quietly to himself, mostly focusing on re-securing himself to the building. He was only half listening to The Brain grumble something about having to pick up the pace as he made a grab for his own rope, attention diverted by the wind that was slowly but surely getting stronger. 

All too quickly, the atmosphere shifted from amused to dire. A sudden blast of frigid air caught them both off guard, Pinky bracing himself against the wall, eyes searching frantically for Brain. Their eyes met in the fraction of a second it took for Brain to topple off the ledge, his terror stricken expression surely one that would be emblazoned into Pinky’s mind permanently. 

All rational thought had been wiped from his mind as Pinky watched his world slip through his fingers, torn away by the wind’s icy claws. He barely heard the sound of his own pattering feet over his pounding heart as he bolted for the edge, the wind whipping angrily around him. 

He jumped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi there!! thanks for making it through the first chapter! sorry it was kinda short, they're longer from here on out, i promise. trigger warnings will henceforth be in the notes at the beginning of each chapter, and the cliffhangers will not be stopping here. 
> 
> but yeah if you enjoyed what you read, or even if you didn't, please let me know! i have stared at my own writing so long i'm desensitized to it, i have no idea if this is good or bad anymore. i live for comments and am grateful for anything you have to say :)
> 
> this fic will be updated weekly, see you then!


	2. In Which Pinky's Mind is Shockingly Useful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tws for this chapter: mild panic attacks

Pinky usually enjoyed colder weather. It brought fun holidays, snow, and most importantly, excuses to cuddle The Brain. Sometimes, they even put taking over the world on hold for a night just to have fun. Not that Pinky didn’t enjoy world conquest, but he treasured those small, private moments with Brain over all else. 

Some small part of his mind considered these ponderings, but was quickly washed away by the overwhelming need to get to Brain. He couldn’t remember actually jumping off of the ledge, but the wind battering at his tightly closed eyelids told him he had. The cold whirled through his fur in a fast paced, violent dance, taking him by the tail and twirling him around, and around, and around. 

The stark contrast of the neon city below and the inky sky above began to blur, tumbling about him in dizzying revolutions. Blue eyes alight with fear, Pinky craned his neck out to search for Brain, but he couldn’t quite tell which way was up anymore. His nose stung viciously from the biting cold, and his lungs felt like hundreds of needles were pricking them every time he took a breath, but the small gasp he forced out would hopefully help calm him down. 

Brain, Brain, he needed to get to Brain. 

Right. 

His arms stopped aimlessly windmilling as he willed his body to stop panicking, spreading himself out flat like an oversized snowflake to steady his otherwise out of control nosedive. He could tell that it worked because almost immediately the air was knocked out of his lungs as he slowed. Wheezing, he looked around his slightly less disorienting surroundings, praying for- yes, yes! There he was! Several feet below him was Brain, hurtling through the air like a rock, limbs tucked in and pink eyes locked shut against the onslaught of wind. Despite having no idea what he’d accomplish once he got there, Pinky knew that whatever happened, they had to be together. 

Now this part, Pinky knew precisely what to do. Having watched all the How To Train Your Dragon movies (and the shows, and then he made Brain read the books to him) multiple times, he could recall most of it from memory alone, including precisely how Toothless would position himself whenever he needed to dive at meteoric speeds.

Angling his nose till it targeted his friend, Pinky pinned his arms to his sides and let his tail and legs go ramrod straight with a determined grimace. He rocketed forwards, careening wildly into the smaller mouse with an  _ oomph _ . Brain’s eyes shot open as he tried to disentangle himself from the taller whilst hanging onto him for dear life. 

“Pinky what are you doing?! Now we’ll  _ both  _ die!” Brain shouted over the roaring wind, a hysterical look in his eye.

Pinky’s ears flattened to his head as his brain began to catch up with his body. Brain was right, this was an awful idea. But he couldn’t just let Brain go! “But I-” his fingers clawed against Brain’s back, latching onto him in hopes of never letting go. “I couldn’t just let—NARF—you fly to Oz all on your own—zort! POIT! Egad-” He panicked, a slurry of tics pushing their way out of his mouth. Thought fragments raced around his head as his already frenzied breaths quickened. His tail squeezed Brain’s in an effort to find something tangible, but Pinky was long gone by then, lost in the terror plaguing his mind. 

He was going to lose Brain, he was going to die, Brain was going to die, he was going to lose Brain-

“Pinky-”

No, no no NO he couldn’t do this, it couldn’t possibly end this way, he wouldn’t let it- 

“Stop it stop it stoppit-” Pinky muttered to himself, his voice amplifying to a desperate shriek. “PLEASE JUST STOP IT-” 

He felt something far, far back in the recesses of his mind tug at him gently, almost as if it were asking for permission. Without resistance he let the feeling wash over him, the tugging quickly morphing into something much more pervasive. It surged from his head to his fingertips, lighting his blood aflame as it went. It was familiar, but he’d never been this close to it as now, the anticipated comforting warmth had become something far less friendly. 

And in an instant, everything stopped. 

In the blissful moment of quiet, Pinky noticed halfheartedly that the wind was no longer tearing into his skin. He could hear Brain’s fluttering heart beneath his chin. He stared at his friend’s soft, white fur as his brain tried in vain to figure out what had happened. Something  _ had _ happened, something had definitely happened. But his body felt like it was somewhat on fire, so he decided that concentrating on anything more than that would be a bit much. 

Brain was saying something, but he sounded like he was trying to talk underwater, all garbled and muffly. He giggled hysterically, hoping that Brain wouldn’t have to pretend to be a mermaid in their next plot, boy oh boy would that end badly. A hand waving vigorously in front of his nose snapped him out of his reverie, and he looked up at the owner of the offending limb with a startled expression. His head hurt. 

“Pinky! Wake up!” Brain was saying, a strained scowl marring his features. “Ah, there you are. Care to explain how exactly we are managing to defy all known laws of gravity??” He demanded in a tone of voice that told Pinky exactly how much fear he was holding back. He shook his head slightly to get rid of the heat fogging it up, and peered over his arms wrapped around Brain’s stomach to get a closer look at the sky. The sky. The sk-

_ Oh. _

They had stopped falling, suspended precariously in midair, the empty space below somehow much more threatening then it had been mere seconds ago. The sound of angry car horns and traffic jams slowly drifted into his ears, the wind was starting to pick up again. His arms tightened around Brain involuntarily as he stared down at the faraway pavement that he nearly smashed his head open on. 

And still might, they weren’t out of the sky-woods yet. 

“Pinky are you doing this?” Brain asked quietly, though he looked as though he already knew the answer. 

Pinky swallowed nervously, suddenly and uncomfortably aware that his undivided attention had to be on keeping them afloat. “It uh, comes and goes.” 

Brain blinked. “That time with the fruit-?”

“Yeah.”

“I see.”

Brain looked deep in thought before opening his mouth again, but Pinky beat him to it, his voice rising with every word. 

“B-but Brain I dunno how long I can hold it, after all the last time I tried I couldn’t even manage fifteen miggle-seconds!” His ears flattened against his head, avoiding his best friend's eyes as he struggled to keep his grip on their levitation. His concentration was spotty at best, and if there was one time he needed it to be spotless it was right now. 

“Then I shall seek answers later, for now all you need to do is keep us afloat and I will figure out how to get us out of this alive.” Brain wasted no time in assuaging his colleague’s fears, putting on a confident mask to give Pinky less to worry about. Pinky knew that tactic as well as he knew his own paws (very well, considering they were in his mouth at least once a week), but today he let himself take reassurance from it. He trusted Brain with his life, they would not die today. 

Brain’s pink eyes darted around them, then he snapped his fingers. An idea! “Pinky, can you deposit me on the ledge closest to us,” he pointed to a ledge about two feet away from them, “and then lift yourself back up to our previous position and gather our climbing equipment? We won’t be able to get down safely without it.” He explained carefully, Pinky’s glazed eyes following his gestures as Brain tried to demonstrate his plan, doing his best to ignore the stinging pain crawling over his skin. 

“Oh, brilliant Brain!” He enthused, admiration for his friend spilling over despite the circumstances. The shorter mouse really was a genius, thinking on the fly (or maybe on the float, he didn’t think this could really be described as flying) even when the stakes were higher than ever. Then he frowned.

“Wait wait, no, no that won’t work Brain, I can only lift other things, see? Poit!” Pinky pointed out, though thinking clearly enough to form a complete sentence was getting more challenging. “I’ve tried moving meself before but—ZORT—it never works.” Brain was undeterred, jumping to his next idea without wasting a second on the disappointment. 

“I see. Then as I can see no other options, we’ll have to resort to continued reliance on your… abilities.” He declared with a hint of trepidation, an apology clearly visible on his face as he looked down at Pinky. “A controlled descent is what I am proposing, do you think you can manage that?”

Pinky looked at him blankly.

“You will let go of your mental hold on me very, very slowly, and we will float downwards at non-lethal speeds, can you do that?” He reiterated. 

“Gee I dunno Brain,” he chuckled worriedly, drawing his legs closer to his body as he tried again to collect his thoughts. “But I don’t think I have much choice in this one, do I?”

“No, I’m afraid not old friend.” Brain’s solemn expression, cast in shadow by the arrival of the overhanging storm clouds, was more than enough answer. Pinky felt his stomach twist in anticipation, and decided to not look down again. He could pretend they were on an elevator ride! A really big, slow, see-through elevator that also didn’t have any walls or floor and most certainly wasn’t OSHA approved!

“Okay okay okay I can do this, I can absolutely super-duper positively do this!” Pinky rambled, his voice pitching higher and higher as he prepared himself. If it had been any other situation, The Brain would have rolled his eyes at Pinky’s babbling instead of patting him reassuringly on the head.

The freezing wind whistled through their fur, and Pinky was faced with the terrifying realization that he had no idea how to let go voluntarily. Although, he reasoned, he didn’t have a clue on how to start it either, so trial and error was his only real option here. Hopefully the error part of the process wouldn’t be  _ too  _ terrible. 

He took a deep breath, then let it out, coaxing some of the scorching heat inside him out alongside it. They lower a few feet. Pinky grinned, his bat-like ears sticking straight up as he started to tell Brain that it was working, but the split second distraction was all it took for Pinky to lose his grip entirely.

The air was stolen mercilessly from his lungs as they hurtled downwards, the wind ripping and clawing at him until he could have sworn he was bleeding from the sheer force of it. His stinging eyes clung to Brain’s, the two mice struggling to maintain their grip on one another through the tumultuous dive. Pinky thought he felt a stray tear stream away from him. 

He grasped at Brain’s wrist, wrenching the power that had retreated back into his mind out into the open, inhaling sharply as they jerked to a stop. Brain looked like he was in shock, but shook himself out of it in time to return Pinky’s hold on his wrist, then grabbing his other arm to raise him up enough to secure his other arm around Pinky’s chest. Adjusting the other arm to wrap around him wasn’t too difficult, and it made wrapping his legs around Pinky’s torso a simpler feat. It wasn’t the smoothest maneuver they’d ever pulled off, but they’d managed it nonetheless.

“I… I believe in you Pinky. You can do this.” Brain breathed out shakily as they began their descent once more. Pinky felt his heart swell at that, and almost looked up to respond before remembering what happened the last time he tried that. A tired “narf” did make its way out however. His ears made out his friend’s breathing de-escalating from hyperventilation mode, and promptly decided against telling Brain that the only reason they were sinking was because Pinky had run out of energy to keep them fully immobile.

His tail waved uncertainly behind him while he watched ground creep ever closer. On the bright side, their short nosedive did speed up their trip! He could actually make out the people rushing along the sidewalk now, they couldn’t have far to go. Turning his attention away from New York, he began to notice just how exhausted he was. The climbing from what seemed like a lifetime ago had done a fantastic job of making his body feel like it was made of lead, and dangling from Brain’s waist hadn’t helped at all. He did appreciate that the new hold his friend had on him was much easier on his muscles, he wasn’t sure his arms could have taken any more, not with how badly they were trembling. Pinky felt awfully exposed just swaying in the open air like this, but Brain’s backpack-like grip on him made him feel marginally safer. (It was almost like a hug!)

The fire coursing through him had dulled to a sluggish warmth, and while he knew how to handle this version of it better, it didn’t bode well for his endurance. 

They were both acutely aware the ride had become choppier, but wisely, neither commented on it. Pinky squeezed his eyes shut, adrenaline giving him enough energy to smoothly speed them along for a minute, then slow back down before he couldn’t trust himself to get them back out of it. He blinked furiously, attempting to drive away the tired fuzz taking over his eyesight. No, he could do this, they were in the final stretch he could make it, he had to. He  _ had  _ to. 

Though his conviction was admirable, the storm was upon them, and there was nothing to be done for it. It raced through the streets in a frenzied, giddy manner, sending people leaning into their umbrellas and tunneling into their coat collars. The temperature dropped a few degrees as the first drops of rain splattered onto the waiting concrete below. A triumphant clap of thunder pealed through the city, announcing to anyone who hadn’t already retreated to shelter that it had arrived. 

A fat drop of water splashed on Pinky’s head. He was about to ask Brain why he was crying, but the next squall had him suddenly battling to stay upright. He found himself snatched from Brain’s grasp, plunging downwards. Someone was screaming. Oh wait, no, that was just him. He had lost Brain, but could still hear him hoarsely shouting out landing directions.

Elbows and knees bent, tuck his head in, and-

Crunch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wOOOO SECOND CHAPTER. i didn't wait a week, i got tired of waiting aksdhfkjds
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading! and no more cliffhangers after this chapter i swear. but yeah let me know what you thought, feedback really helps me improve and it just makes me happy! i hope you enjoyed, and have a good day and stay safe y'all <3


	3. In Which The World Can Wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tws: graphic (but not super gory) description of injury, blood

The Brain awoke with a start, the immediate onslaught of pain made him regret it. Come to think of it, the shard of glass jutting crudely out of his abdomen might have something to do with that. He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen unconscious in the first place, never a good sign. 

He blinked slowly, struggling to remember what had befallen him as he let his eyes adjust to the darkness. He… no, they, had been climbing, and then- oh. He remembered. Falling, Pinky’s fortuitous employment of his near dormant telekinetic abilities, then crash landing in a waste receptacle on the street. Brain must have landed on a shard of the broken beer bottle lying a few inches away from him. He supposed he probably should be thanking whatever measly amount of luck they possessed for getting such a non-fatal landing, but he wasn’t feeling particularly grateful at the moment. 

His hand shakily ventured near the open wound to get a feel for how bad his condition was, mentally kicking himself for not examining it before his impromptu nap. Of course the adrenaline had dutifully numbed his screaming nerve endings for him earlier, so all he had felt was the oddly painless sensation of not being alone in his own body. 

He carefully pushed himself semi-upright, leaning awkwardly on his right elbow for support. The movement jostled his other arm into the glass, and he cried out at the piercing jolt sent shooting throughout the rest of his body. Quickly planting his untrustworthy arm on his side, he felt the traitorous prick of tears in his eyes as he fought to control his breathing. 

Exhaling slowly, he tried again, this time with less chance of accidentally hurting himself. He looked down. 

It looked about as bad as he felt. The edges of the puncture wound were red and angry, and had puffed up considerably. It was too early to tell if an infection was imminent, but once the glass was removed the chances would double. He watched a trickle of hot blood bubble out and ooze down his side. It was almost mesmerizing, and if it weren’t for the throbbing pain rearing its head every time he took a breath, he felt like he could have watched it for hours.

But overall, his conclusion was both worse and better than he’d presumed. 

One one hand, the sticky clumps of bloodied fur and the half dried glob of blood pooled beneath him meant that the bleeding was slowing on its own accord. Good, now he wouldn’t have to worry about bleeding out for the time being. But on the other hand, he had concluded that his unconscious spell had been caused by blood loss and shock, which meant no concussion. He couldn’t quite recall his landing in the trash can, or how the glass ended up in his side (he was a little grateful for losing that particular memory), but since his head wasn’t threatening to pound itself into mush then he most likely escaped sans head injury. 

But this meant ultimately that the loss of any more blood could prove this situation even more serious than it already was, and that outcome would likely come to pass as soon as the shard was removed, uncorking the blood flow. Mice only have roughly 77 milliliters of blood to begin with, he wasn’t sure how much he had left to spare at this point. 

Gingerly prodding at the area surrounding the gash, Brain scowled worriedly. He wasn’t going to be able to keep the glass in its place to remove it in a cleaner, more medically equipped location, he’d have to remove it here in order to move at all. And removing it on his own would likely do even more damage, he lacked the right angle and leverage to perform properly. Brain always preferred taking care of himself, but he could admit that he was going to need Pinky’s assistance for this one.

Wait- where _was_ Pinky anyway? His ears flattened to his head in shame at the realization that he hadn’t seen the lanky mouse since he woke up. Inwardly berating himself for not noticing sooner—the logical part of his mind telling him that it was perfectly natural to be concerned with himself first after a traumatic event was swiftly silenced—he made a quick visual sweep on everything in the can. 

It appeared as though he had been deposited on some sort of fast food wrapper after his brief stint with the beer bottle, mostly devoid of actual food particles, thank the heavens. There were a few empty disposable cups towards the opposite side of the can, separated by a revolting heap of halfway rotted food. The stench was abominable, and Brain could already predict that he would reek of the metallic scent of congealed blood and putrescent fast food for days after this mess was over. 

Glancing down at the hand he’d used to examine his injury with, he noticed with vague distaste that his pink skin was stained a rapidly browning red, and some of it had the gall to dry underneath his claws. Wonderful. 

Swivelling his ears in an all encompassing circle yielded no results, it was beginning to look like Pinky may have not landed in the trash can at all. Taking a deep breath, Brain called Pinky’s name a few times before tapering off to stamp down on the urge to curl into a ball and cry. He stared for a few moments, unseeing, as his thoughts raced to come up with a plan of action. 

He had to go look for Pinky, that was the only solution. If he was unconscious then that put him at great risk, if he was outside then it was even greater or deadly. His fists clenched in frustration. He knew exactly what course he had to take, but he was incapacitated, completely helpless to take it. His survival depended on the very mouse he needed to save, and he could do nothing. Nothing but sit and slowly succumb to infection or blood loss, whichever came first. 

Though faced with an impressively hateful glower, the green glass remained unintimidated by the short mouse with the vaguely Volkswagen shaped head. But Brain was undeterred by its indifference, and with gritted teeth, he came to a decision. Doing nothing was out of the question. Lowering himself flat on his back, he reached for a protruding angle of the shard. 

He hesitated, only to remind himself with renewed vigour that to prolong the process into anything longer than a swift, upward yank would render him too wrecked to continue. Setting his expression to a hard frown, he gave a quick, sharp tug, and then nearly dropped the fragment on his face. 

Hot pulses of pain exploded behind his eyelids like fireworks, pink eyes squeezed shut to ride out the agony as long as he could bear it. He had resolved beforehand that under no circumstances would he faint, but the soft quiet niggling at the edges of his mind was beginning to look all the more inviting. He imagined that later on, when he was less preoccupied with other sensations, his teeth would greatly protest the force he was using to keep them clamped shut. This situation was degrading enough as is, his pained wails, or worse, _squeaks_ , would not be tolerated.

With a start, he realized that he hadn’t been breathing. Sucking in the putrid air of humanity’s filth had never been such a relief before, and he had to concede that breathing at all was a vast improvement to having the wind rip it out of his lungs. 

He struggled to keep his twitching hands from instinctively going to cover his burning injury, occupying himself instead with observing the few, lonesome snowflakes that had made their way in through the opening of the can, drifting despondently towards the floor. There they stayed for a brief second, before melting and disappearing under Brain’s watchful gaze. 

The gut wrenching spasms had, mercifully, slowed to a dull throb. He exhaled shakily, letting his coiled muscles relax slightly. He didn’t bother looking for where he had tossed the shard of glass, reality could wait a minute while he stopped to catch his breath. It seemed to be constantly escaping him today. 

His heart fluttered weakly inside his chest, he was finding it more and more difficult to breathe properly. 

In, out. In-stutter-out. In-

A small tendril of wind snaked inside the can, brushing soothingly along his tail. Distantly, Brain pondered his odd stroke of luck in not acquiring any more disfigurations in his tail. Small victories, he thought to himself, watching a napkin in the trash can float upwards halfheartedly, then sink back down. His gaze turned blank as he felt the mind-numbing pain begin to take hold, releasing his mind inch by inch towards the sleep he had so rudely denied himself before. 

Fighting a losing battle, his eyelids sagged ever so slightly.

“Brain?”

Brain noted dully as a warm, wet trail slipped down his fur, as if it were seeping through his skin right down to his bones. However disconcerting it was, he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Oh goodness—zort—BRAIN!” 

Was someone speaking to him? He couldn’t see them. When had his eyes closed? He didn’t remember. 

“Oh deary me, Brain can you hear me?!” the voice called again, this time louder. They added something about being sorry, and then— _OW._

The Brain launched upright, a sudden agonizing pain spike reverberating through his frame. His forehead collided forcefully with something hovering over him, sending it yelping backwards. He shook his head violently to get rid of the fog that had taken up residency, then looked sharply up at the intruder, hands hovering protectively over his side. 

“Pinky!” he exclaimed, ignoring the relieved smile tugging at his lips. Pinky, surprisingly, didn’t look grievously injured. He mostly just looked exhausted, more than a little panicky, and covered in dark red stains. He blinked. 

“Pinky are you—agh—alright?” He winced, moving to get up to check on his friend but reconsidering at his body’s considerable protests. Pinky looked puzzled, wringing his tail nervously, accidentally smearing blood on it. 

“What? Oh, OH, yes I’m quite alright Brain I just,” he padded closer, staring calculatively at the gash in Brain’s abdomen. It was an expression Brain had only seen Pinky make four times in their lives together. “This isn’t mine see, it’s yours, you looked like you were falling asleep and that would be really bad.” He rambled, avoiding Brain’s eyes. “And yelling wasn’t w-working so the only way I could think of to wake you up was to hurt you, I’M SO SORRY BRAIN!” Pinky wailed, looking like he was on the verge of full on sobs. Brain grimaced, he could understand the guilty feeling, but now was simply not the time.

“No Pinky, you made the right- PINKY.” The taller mouse snapped his mouth shut immediately, staring at him with watery, impossibly blue eyes that possessed Brain with the sudden urge to cry alongside him. Though he supposed Pinky’s overly emotional nature always had that soppy effect on him, beautiful puppy eyes in play or not.

“Now if you would kindly cease your blubbering,” Pinky made a zipping motion over his lips and nodded furiously. “I was _trying_ to tell you that you made the correct choice, in fact it is highly probable that in doing so you have just saved my life.” Brain stated matter of factly, then mumbled “So thank you.”

If it were possible, Pinky’s eyes got even bigger at his words. Well, at least it calmed the waterworks.

At Brain’s reassurances, Pinky went to work looking over his injury, fingers hovering over it cautiously, but never touching. 

He frowned as his taller friend began mumbling something with his mouth still zipped shut, gesturing wildly with his hands. 

“Pinky I am incapable of understanding you when you neglect to open your mouth before speaking.” He sighed, closing his eyes briefly to calm the need to lie back down again. Pinky frowned at him indignantly.

“Mmph mm mhm hm Mmh Mmph!”

“Pinky we were never playing Simon Says, just open your mouth.”

“Hmmph mm.”

“ _Fine_ , Simon Says, open your mouth before I am compelled to hurt you.” It was an idle threat, and they both knew it. Pinky giggled to himself, and Brain despaired. He was utterly clueless as to how his friend managed to be so… himself, even after the day they’d had. But he supposed that it would be much more worrying if he was anything but, and the familiar routine was of some comfort to both mice. 

“Much better.” Pinky remarked, unzipping his lips. “Now as I was saying, you are leaking _way_ too much jelly, so I was thinking I could go grab that napkin over there and tear it up to make some kind of MacGyver-esque Band-Aid?” He queried, obviously wanting to hurry on with his plan, but he knew from experience that failing to run it by Brain only lead to bad things. 

But Brain, early into their quest together, had placed an immense amount of trust in his colleague regarding their health. While he wouldn’t trust Pinky to make a sandwich without putting tinfoil or dryer lint in it, Pinky had a certain talent for nursing that Brain knew to respect. He nodded, and Pinky immediately scampered off, looking a little unsteadier than usual, but he could chalk that up to stress. 

Brain let himself lower back down to his elbows gently, hoping to get a moment of relief before the certainly painful process of bandaging started. 

Breathe in, breathe out.

He hadn’t realized how effectively Pinky’s presence had distracted him from his body screaming bloody murder at him for getting himself impaled. He pondered the logistics of today’s plan as he distractedly watched the angry, black sky above. The scheme obviously hadn’t been worth the risk, and he cursed himself for ever even considering it. 

Of course, climbing up the side of the Empire State Building had never been the original plan, but clearly his improvised decision to risk their lives even more than usual had been a foolish misstep on his part. One that had almost gotten the both of them killed.

But at the end of the day, the ends justified the means. Conquer the earth by any means possible, that was what he cared about. That was the _only_ thing he cared about. That was it. Definitely. 

But he had to admit, he had successfully taken over the world on more than one occasion, but he had squandered his victory each time without fail, because one thing had been missing. One thing that Brain had traded the world for without a second thought. One thing that had been with him before he ever even realized his purpose in life, and in fact, had inadvertently _given_ him his purpose.

“I’m back!” Pinky reappeared beside him, presenting his find with tired excitement. 

Brain could only nod mutely. Pinky. It was always Pinky. But on some deeply repressed level, he acknowledged, he had always known that. This wasn’t a new discovery for him, he was simply late to realize what feelings had been there for twenty-eight years. 

The world came crashing back into focus as something snugged around his middle. The ache suddenly escalated to an aggravated stab, and he stifled a whimper. Pinky was babbling nervously beside him, probably trying to distract himself and The Brain, and he latched onto the line thrown to him eagerly, trying valiantly to focus one whatever Pinky was rambling about. 

His leg spasmed out of his control at a particularly grating brush directly over the center of the gash. Blood had begun leaking from it again at all the commotion, and he could somewhat see the crimson stain blossoming on the napkin.

The voice above him murmured something about possibly needing another napkin, and Brain wanted to scream at how long it was taking. 

“Make. Do.” He growled out, voice only faltering once. Pinky acquiesced, and busied himself once more.

Breathe in,

Breathe out.

His head was starting to pound in time with his overactive heart, beating a tattoo into his skull.

“Aaaand done!” Pinky exclaimed with a sigh, looking fairly pleased with his handiwork. Brain peered down at himself as well, noting with some relief that the small, red splotch that had breached the napkin bandaging stayed that way. Fortunately the glass had chosen to lodge inside of him horizontally, which had undoubtedly greatly simplified the process of covering it. 

He didn’t remember when Pinky had guided him upright, but the large knot tied at the small of his back told him it must have happened for him to be able to reach. A bottle cap had been discarded beside him, a droplet of what was presumably rain water dribbling out of the rim, likely used to rinse out the open wound. 

How resourceful, Brain thought with a tinge of pride. Pinky, for his part, had performed remarkably well under the mountain of stress he had been handed, though the persistent tremble in his limbs had only grown more pronounced. 

He’d have to make a point of telling his friend exactly how icredible helpful he’d been, but it would have to wait. There was no time to indulge in sentimentalities when their lives were still at risk. 

Letting out a relieved sigh, he turned to Pinky. “Excellent work my friend.” Pinky glowed at the praise. “Now, to business. We can’t stay here, it’s unsanitary and we’ll likely freeze to death. I recall writing in my profile of the area around our target location prior to leaving ACME that there is a coffeehouse across the street.

“Ooooo, is it Starsucks??”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Oh goody! I’ve always wanted to try a Frappu-maraschino thingy, they sound fun-fun silly-willy!” Pinky commented, picking at the crusted blood underneath his claws absentmindedly. Brain opened his mouth to correct him, but decided ultimately it wasn’t worth the effort. The semantics of overpriced sugary coffee could wait.

“Somehow, that doesn’t doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.” he muttered dryly, beckoning Pinky over to help him upright.

Though mildly resembling a hunchback with the way he was forced to slouch, Brain was standing, albeit leaning heavily on his friend’s offered arm. He thought maybe this had been a bad idea, sure he was standing now but walking? That was a whole different story. He glared up at the rim of the trash can with trepidation, suddenly realizing that as of now, they had no means of escape. 

Only a second off beat, Pinky voiced his thoughts for him. “Brain, how are we going to get up there?” 

“We’ll have to find a rope of some kind to pull ourselves up with,” There was more to Brain’s idea, but he had a feeling his partner wasn’t going to like the rest of it, so he kept it to himself. Pinky’s eyes darted around until they landed on something a few inches away.

“How about we climb the social ladder?” He chirped, a pleased expression on his face as he pointed out his find. 

“Pinky that’s not how—” He stopped short at the shredded piece of newspaper he’d been presented with, the headline reading _Meghan Markle’s Rise to Royalty._ He stifled a small chuckle. “...Actually that will do nicely, bring it here, will you?”

Pinky nodded, then winced. Brain frowned, had he whacked his head on something on the way down? 

“Are you alright?” he questioned, noting the way his friend’s posture abruptly straightened in an attempt to make himself look more put together. Pinky reassured him hurriedly that he was “fit as a fiddler on a hot aluminium roof,” then tottered off to retrieve the strip of newspaper (and Brain definitely didn’t almost fall over once he left). 

Brain raised a brow. Well- since in all other aspects he seemed to be functioning as normal, Brain decided to let it go. But he’d be keeping an extra close watch over the taller mouse. Pinky returned moments later, waiting for Brain to explain the next step.

“Erm… Pinky I don’t want to ask you to do this, but I fear it’s the only way.” He began, guilt slowly creeping into his expression. “We will hold onto the paper, you will use your abilities to lift it to the rim of the trashcan, and touch down. Then you must lower us down to the concrete.” He could practically hear the cogs turning in Pinky’s mind as his ears started to sag. Pinky started fidgeting with his tail again, training his eyes on the ground. 

“I- uhm. I dunno if I can.” he mumbled.

“I know that its reliability is… sporadic, at best, but I don’t see another way out, as we can’t exactly climb.” He cajoled reluctantly, placing a hand on Pinky’s shoulder, partly out of necessity and partly out of consolation.

Pinky, for once in his life, said nothing, simply tightening his grip on their makeshift rope and unfocusing his eyes as his fur began to ever so slightly stand on end. Soon enough they were dangling in midair, then quickly setting down on the lip of the can before Pinky pushed off again. 

Pinky pulled weakly at the feeling he was rapidly familiarizing himself with, recognizing that he wouldn’t be able to rely on it much longer, and sped up their downward crawl to more of a slowed drop. The wind was less violent here on the ground, but the chill it created was just as prominent, clinging to his skin and sending a shiver running up his spine. 

He faltered in the last inch or so, plopping them down on the concrete unceremoniously. As his feet touched the ground a stabbing pain ripped through his leg, and he let out a strangled yelp as he lifted his leg up slightly. He gave it a quick visual examination and was left a bit baffled, nothing looked out of place. No scrapes, bruises, cuts, no, everything was normal. Except for the dull, pounding ache starting to make its appearance that is. 

Sheesh, he hadn’t landed that hard, had he? Though come to think of it, his leg had hurt a little earlier. Okay it had hurt a lot, but he’d been busy making sure Brain kept his jelly inside of him, and Pinky felt perfectly justified in his priorities. 

Shooting a look over at Brain, he noticed that the smaller mouse had landed safely, but was about to ruin it by attempting to walk around by himself. Minding his malfunctioning leg, he scampered over to his friend and helped him up, keeping a protective hold on his arm to keep him upright. 

Helping Brain was a stupidly convoluted task, and Pinky had met no other with as many rules about assistance as Brain. Of course it’s a job he’d relinquish to exactly no one, but Helping Without Actually Looking Like You’re Helping, and Helping While Pretending You’re Not, were skills that took him years to master.

Brain leaned into his side subtly, and Pinky was careful not to lean back in fear of scaring him off. 

“Are you- are you alright? You made a pained sound when we landed.” Brain asked, not looking up, instead focusing on the bustling passersby. 

“Yep! I’ll be right as rain, soon as we get some sleep.” Pinky affirmed. He didn’t like lying to Brain. But maybe it wasn’t _really_ a lie, because he really was just tired, and mysterious aches were usually cured by a good night’s rest. So he didn’t lie!

The stretch of silence that followed told Pinky that Brain didn’t quite believe him, but wasn’t going to push it. And he was thankful, he’d have plenty of time to tend to himself later but for now they had urgent matters at hand. 

“Soooo how’re we getting over to Starcucks exactly? Because I’ve heard that the siren who runs the place is very kind hearted, but I don’t know if she’ll be out in this horrid weather. Poit!” He tutted, rubbing a finger over his chin as he kept a watchful eye on the shoes that occasionally stomped a bit too close to their spot on the pavement for his liking. 

Brain had on his Pondering Face as he unconsciously wrapped his arms around the bandage. A new splotch of red was blossoming through an outer layer of the napkin, but it thankfully stayed small, and Pinky silently counted their equally small blessings. 

“Well it’s simple Pinky, we just walk and hope to avoid being trodden on.” Brain said with a confidence not quite reflected in his body language. His counterpart raised his eyebrows.

“But Brain, doesn’t walking hurt a lot right now? And, and what if you do get hurt again, wouldn’t that just make it worse?” He fretted, eyes burning a hole into the top of Brain’s head.

“That’s, ah, that’s irrelevant Pinky, we’ve been through worse.” he lied through his teeth. This was undeniably one of the worst situations they’d ever found themselves in.

“Oh! How about I just carry you?”

“Wha- Pinky that’s absurd, we’d move too slowly.”

“I mean I’ve done it plenty of times before, you’re really not all that heavy-”

“Pinky under no circumstances are you to _carry_ me, and that is my final word on the matter.”

Ten seconds of disgruntled yelling and a swing at Pinky’s head later, Pinky had him in a bridal carry. Pinky inwardly congratulated himself, a rare, smug smile on his face. Brain looked like he wanted to slap it off him, but his threatening aura was somewhat diminished by the red, embarrassed glow underneath his fur. But he wasn’t fighting Pinky’s hold on him either.

Venturing out from the safety of their hiding place underneath the trash can, Pinky instinctively hugged his friend to his chest a little tighter, calming himself with the reassurance of Brain’s slowly steadying heartbeat. He took his first few steps out and blinked rapidly, the headache that had been growing in intensity since he woke was suddenly impossible to ignore, hammering at his skull in an increasingly distracting manner. 

He kept walking. He could shake it off, deal with it later. It couldn’t be all that bad, it’s not like _he_ was the one who got impaled. 

The concrete was cold, very cold, and flecks of snow weren’t having much trouble sticking to it. He wondered if it would snow enough to the point where he’d get to see what it looked like when people salted the roads. He’d heard that people did that when it got too snowy. He wasn’t sure why they did it, maybe to make the snow taste better? No, no, salt water was bad for humans, he was sure of that much. 

A sharp tap to his nose dragged his attention away from his wanderings, and noticed that they’d reached the crosswalk. Unfortunately it also brought to his attention that his leg was starting to pound in time with his head. It felt loud, though he was pretty certain neither of those ailments made noise.

“Pinky we need to cross- are you listening?”

Oh right, Brain was talking to him. How long had he been talking? Pinky couldn’t remember. He didn’t remember getting here either, but he was probably just lost in thought.

“Alright just a second Brain, we have to wait for the angel in the little box to come back.” he said, readjusting his grip on Brain a bit while trying in vain to avoid jostling the bandage. Brain hissed at the movement, Pinky murmured an apology.

“I’m aware, you missed it the first time. And that crosswalk sign isn’t an angel Pinky, it’s just a light up stick figure.” Brain chided, exasperation poorly masking the concern laced in his voice.

“Oh. Sorry then. I’ll keep extra good watch this time!” Pinky replied, tail swishing tiredly on the ground. As far as he was concerned, if it was a nice looking person that glowed white, it was definitely an angel in his book. Besides, they kept people from getting hurt while crossing the street with no reward! What’s more altruistic than that? Hm, maybe he should leave the angels back in Burbank some gifts next Christmas to show how grateful he was for their hard work. 

The red hand gave way to the friendly light of the angel, and Pinky started walking, then stopped. 

“Where are we going again?” he frowned, wracking his brain for the information he was positive had just been there. 

Brain looked at him sharply, questions written plainly on his face. “We’re going to Starsucks, we need to cross the street. Now, preferably.” 

“Righto!” Pinky nodded, his headache aggressively reminding him that this was a bad idea. Moving as quickly as possible while trying unsuccessfully not to limp, he positioned them behind a slow moving older woman with a walker for protection from the more harried people dashing across the street. 

A freezing gust of wind ruffled his fur, his tail curling closer to his body to seek out the escaping body heat. He shivered, and nearly failed to make out Brain asking him if he really was okay, a suspicious look in his pink eyes.

“Oh yes Brain I’ll be fine once we get inside. Zort!” he reaffirmed, keeping his gaze firmly locked onto their human shield’s sneakers. He wondered vaguely if Brain could hear how loud his heart was beating, because it was getting to where it was all he could hear. It was almost soothing, like a weird, percussionist lullaby. Come to think of it he was feeling a little sleepy. His body was absolutely exhausted, and frankly he wouldn’t mind taking a short nap when they got to the sidewalk. 

Brain nodded beneath him, the distrustful look never leaving his face as he relented. But Pinky had stopped paying attention to him, instead focusing on walking, step by step, ignoring how painfully his leg was fighting his decision. A particularly hard step down made his limb scream in pain, a wave of dizziness washing over him. He stumbled, catching himself with his tail before they toppled over.

Fortunately at this point they had reached the curb, and he bought himself a moment of rest while he mapped out their course. 

It hurt, everything hurt. He was _tired_. Through the fog clogging up his mind he questioned whether he’d make it to the door; he elected to leave that question unanswered. 

He looked down, and found he and Brain standing in the middle of the sidewalk. He glanced around them, confused, when did they get here? His head was spinning in nauseating circles, dimly registering Brain saying something loudly in his arms. 

“...What?” he responded after a beat of silence.

“I said, we need… move… in there.” Brain said, his mouth was moving fluently but Pinky didn’t pick up half of what came out through the cotton filling his ears. His heart thumped louder.

His leg really hurt.

He thought Brain might still have been talking, so he mumbled something out to appease him, but he put all his energy into getting to the inviting looking door a few feet away. It had a warm, golden glow emanating from inside that was a stark contrast to the unsympathetic grey of the outdoors. 

The door opened to make way for a young couple exiting the shop, chatting merrily about nothing in particular. The blast of warm air was heavenly, and Pinky made a halting dash for the opening. He had to get inside, and then… he didn’t know what then.

They were inside. The warmth of the tiled floor against his frozen paws almost burned, but he found he didn’t have the strength to do anything about it. His vision blurred, spots of grey encroaching at the corners. Was it snowing inside? He hoped not, not after all that effort to get away from the snow. 

His body felt blissfully numbed, pain disappearing into the welcoming fog. Just keeping his head up felt like trying to hold up a mountain, and he wasn’t entirely certain of whether his legs were still attached to him. And then a sudden and strong-willed connection to the earth.

At first he’d thought the floor was uncomfortably hot, but now they were warm, warm and surprisingly comfortable. Comfortable enough to take a nap on, he decided. 

Everything was dark, hazy, and warm, everything except—someone was shaking his shoulder.

He had half a mind to ignore it, wanting nothing more than to bury his head in his arms and drift back into that soft darkness. It beckoned to the drained mouse, and he wouldn’t have been surprised to find that his body was simply too heavy to do anything _but_ fall back in. 

But the shaking persisted, growing more and more agitated until Pinky finally relented. He begrudgingly dragged his consciousness back from the dark recesses of sleep, slowly peeling his eyelids apart. It felt like a Herculean task just keeping them open, fighting to keep his head from dropping back onto his chest. The person shaking him turned out to be a distressed looking Brain, who was holding him roughly by the shoulders. 

He turned his sleepy gaze to their surroundings, noting that they were no longer outside. They were in some dark, dusty spot kept safe from the floor of a shop. Oh, they had made it inside Starsucks then. Brain’s grip softened slightly, and Pinky felt him pat his chest a few times, a type of silent communication they used only when something was really wrong and they needed the others attention.

“I’m going to need you to stay awake for a bit longer, can you do that for me?” Brain asked, searching Pinky’s eyes for something Pinky wasn’t sure of. He nodded slowly.

“Verbal responses… please.”

“Okay.”

A tight smile appeared on his friend’s face, and he continued. “Now, what is your name?”

“Pinky!” he exclaimed blearily, wiggling his fingers as he felt the pins and needles start to prick at them.

“Excellent. Where do you live?” Brain’s smile became a tad less forced, his hands running over Pinky’s body, checking for injuries.

“ACME Labs, in—narf—Burbank.” he answered easily, twitching his ears slightly when Brain’s hand landed on his ear tag.

“Perfect. Do you know who I am?”

Pinky’s drifted close for a moment, then snapped open again as the mouse before him repeated the question with added volume. 

“Erm—yes, youuu are The Brain, my favorite person in the whooole wide world!” his words were beginning to slur, but Brain could still understand the meaning behind them. Pinky watched his friend’s face darken at his words with an expression of intense guilt before returning hurriedly to his assessment. 

“Good, good, now which of the following are you experiencing: nausea, dizziness, fatigue or headache?” he listed off clinically, making his way down to Pinky’s legs.

“Ahm… yes.” Pinky declared, after a moment’s deliberation. 

“That’s not- okay, good to know.” his searching touch landed on the back of Pinky’s left leg, and then— white hot pain exploding through him, he curled in on himself defensively, vision momentarily blacking out. 

His name was being called, but he didn’t want to expose himself again. He could hear someone crying in the distance, he wanted to check on them but he couldn’t bring himself to move. The fur on his face was damp now, his eyes felt hot and burny. A fat droplet trickled down his cheek. Oh, so he was the one who was crying. Why was he crying? 

It hurt, it hurt so bad and he was scared, this was scary he didn’t want to let go—

“Pinky! Pinky I need you to look at me, I know it hurts but I just need a moment to inspect it and then you can rest.” Brain reassured, his hands hovering uselessly over his cohort’s arms, unsure if touch was the right course of action. 

His experience with touch was limited, and his knowledge of how to comfort others was even more so. One of his weaknesses he supposed, one he was now determined to remedy. 

Brain watched with trepidation as Pinky raised his head to look up at him, his watery blue eyes somehow glazed and piercing his very soul all at once. An enigma, just like the mouse himself. The urge to console him was overwhelming, but his ignorance in that field had him frozen to the spot.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Thank you Pinky. I am going to stretch out your leg in a moment, and I’ll have to feel around the spot where it hurts to check if it’s broken.” he paused, his ears sagging. “Is that alright?”

Pinky shuddered, but he agreed, albeit reluctantly. Brain knelt down, and cautiously wrapped his fingers around Pinky’s leg, slowly unfolding it. Pinky was usually the one treating their injuries, he thought forlornly, Brain wasn’t confident he could handle this situation properly. Of course he had all the medical and anatomical textbooks in the lab memorized front to back, but it was all theoretical. 

None of it prepared him for poking and prodding at a potentially broken bone while his dearest friend suppressed heart wrenching sobs in the background. It didn’t prepare him for the all consuming guilt of Pinky crying and in pain because of him. Objectively he knew this wasn’t true, and that he was only helping, but it was still difficult to ignore those infuriatingly persistent feelings. 

Heeding the sharp cry elicited when he landed on a specific, slightly swollen spot, Brain summoned all the clinical professionalism he could muster and pressed on. Minute trembles ran through Pinky’s body.

Brain drew back, satisfied with his conclusion. He leaned back on his heels, feeling more tired from this than the rest of the day’s events combined. He heaved out a sigh of relief, letting out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. 

Unfortunately, returning from such intense concentration meant acknowledging reality once more, the stabbing pangs from his side making their comeback with gusto. It was hot, burning every time he moved as the rough bandage dragged across it. Dismayed, he realized that the wetness trickling down his fur had to be blood, he must have stretched the wound during all the excitement. Yes, abruptly tumbling out of Pinky’s arms only to have to drag said mouse to safety under a nearby couch would most likely be considered overdoing it. He noticed vaguely that his hands were shaking nervously. 

Brain scootched over closer to his friend, who was staring listlessly into space with half lidded eyes, and leaned his back against the wall. 

“I have determined that you’ve fractured your fibula, presumably by that leg hitting the lip of the trash can during the fall. Which also explains how you were able to walk for so long, as the fibula doesn’t bear much weight and if injured, can be endured for a time, with enough adrenaline that is.” He explained, watching Pinky’s reaction closely. 

There wasn’t much of one, just the occasional nod to show he was still somewhat attentive. While his lack of verbal replies was unusual (but given the circumstances understandable), the confused acceptance of his “big sciency words” was normal, he generally had no idea what The Brain was talking about but listened anyway. And Brain always explained, even though it was often pointless, for he felt it would be simply wrong not to.

“Of course there’s also your grade three concussion, which we would ideally handle back in the lab, but this place will have to do for now. In the morning I’ll have to look for something to use as a splint, and make our location more hospitable as I believe we’ll have to remain here for a while—” he rambled tiredly, dragging a hand over his face as he came to terms with the discouraging reality of their predicament. 

But Pinky, as he always did, could cut through his whirlwind of thoughts with practiced ease. He extended a paw, and grasped Brain’s wrist lightly, bringing it back down to his lap. It was a fairly obvious signal that Pinky thought he needed to relax, and Brain wasn’t too opposed to it. 

He felt Pinky’s chin slump on top of his head, his other arm snaking around his shoulder in a lazy sort of half-hug. Brain didn’t move, staring resolutely at the floor as he internally debated moving to prevent the embarrassment, or staying put and succumbing to the comforting warmth surrounding him. Well, he wasn’t a complete disaster _yet_ , there might still be time to redeem himself-

“I love you Brain.” Pinky murmured sleepily above him, his hand idly playing with Brain’s chest fur.

Brain wondered distantly if this is what it was like to have a heart attack. 

Pinky loved him? Of course he did, both of them had known that for years now. It was simply an unspoken but mutually understood truth, like how they were both aware that Brain reciprocated.

It’s just- no one had ever said it out loud before.

Did he even know how to say it back?

He took a deep breath, focusing on the subdued sounds of the dimly lit cafe. “I… I will wake you every two hours to assess your condition.” He wasn’t ready. But he could feel Pinky’s smile, and knew that his companion best friend was willing to wait for him.

When he was certain Pinky was asleep, he softly slipped his wrist from the other’s loosened grip, moving to gently interlace his fingers with Pinky’s. Brain let himself smile, and relaxed into the cuddle.

“Get some rest, old friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aYYYY long chapter!! and with this beast out of the way there's only one chapter to go, thanks for sticking with it! i hope you enjoyed today's chapter, let me know how you feel in the comments if you like. seriously comments make my entire day skdfasd
> 
> i'll see y'all next week, stay safe!


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can only pray y'all will get the joke referencing "you'll never eat food pellets in this town again"

Brain drank in the smells of coffee and warm pastries greedily, and closed his eyes against the dim light filtering in through the cuts in the couch skirt. Soon he could drift back into a dreamless, untroubled, and most importantly  _ uninterrupted _ sleep.

They had made it through that night, Brain waking Pinky roughly every two hours to check on his condition. Though it would still take him a few weeks to fully recover (with Brain carefully monitoring him of course), he was headed in the right direction. He still had a headache and suffered from bouts of dizziness or nausea, but he was out of immediate danger.

Brain had managed to snag a wooden stir stick that a clumsy customer had fortuitously dropped near their couch, and used it along with a piece of string to craft Pinky a splint. Of course, all walking was strongly discouraged, but unfortunately this applied to the both of them, so they had to take turns venturing out for supplies. 

As soon as Pinky was upright, he went in search of makeshift medical supplies, returning shortly with a napkin and some tape. Then when night fell and the shop was finally emptied, he carried Brain and his supplies (cautiously, Brain nagging him every ten seconds to not put too much weight on his leg) to the sink. They had been extraordinarily lucky in that regard, they only managed the journey up to the countertop because some employee had so thoughtfully left a step stool out for them.

For a moment, Brain humoured the thought of the universe trying to make the past events up to them with all this unanticipated luck. A ridiculous notion, but he voiced the thought to Pinky to get a laugh out of him, and Brain had smiled reluctantly at the following mirth. It only slightly perturbed him that his friends giggling lifted his spirits more than his weak joke did. 

The re-bandaging process, all things considered, had gone fairly well. There were a few snags, of course. Brain had tugged the wound farther open when he was manhandling Pinky under the couch, and washing out the clumps of dried blood matting his fur that stretch caused was a maddeningly tedious task. 

But they made do.

The final difficulty was closing the wound so it was less likely to get infected, and result in a smaller scar. Pinky would usually be sewing a gash like this closed, but due to the lack of proper equipment, he had decided to just put some tape over it and hope for the best. 

Brain was skeptical, but at that point the deed was already done, and they were too exhausted to do anything more than crawl back to their hideout and call it a day.

Now, their second day recuperating inside the cafe, life had settled into a comfortable haze. The two mice spent most of their time sleeping, and chatting quietly about nothing in particular. 

_ “Hey Brain, have you ever wondered if the Boston Tea Party was really just a plot to make the world’s biggest cup of tea?” _

_ “Your mind, Pinky, is truly unfathomable.” _

And finally, after days of putting his curiosity on the shelf for the common good, Brain was allowed to grill Pinky for answers about his telekinesis. Not that there were many, just a lot of vague “swooshy burny feelings,” but it was better than nothing. He itched to run some tests, see what more his friend was capable of, but it would take time and probably some therapy for that sort of thing to be appropriate. 

And the last thing he wanted was to hurt his friend.

_ “Hey babe, are you corn? ‘Cause I’d shuck you any day.” _

_ “Pinky I refuse to dignify that sentence with a proper response.” _

Then again, hurting Pinky was suddenly looking all the more appealing. 

The unfortunate development of Terrible Pun Pinky aside, the hours passed relatively smoothly, Brain drifting in and out of a light doze, awakening irritably to the loud clomping of shoes walking by every so often. In his sleep deprived state, having not slept more than an hour since they’d arrived at the shop, he thought he might explode then and there when a particularly irksome couple decided to seat themselves on top of their couch. And of course, they were the type to never cease moving their mouths, constantly jabbering and fidgeting their feet for two entire hours.

Eventually, Brain gave in and nudged Pinky awake to have someone else to listen to. At least his friend’s jabbering, however nonsensical, wasn’t entirely a nuisance. It was split 50/50 between nuisance and comfort at this point, if he was being honest.

He sighed contentedly, letting his eyelids droop as the day began to wind down. The crowd of people outside was steadily dwindling, the last few stragglers diligently tapping away at their laptops, no doubt cramming for sort of assessment with the way they were downing that espresso. 

The air was warm, thick with sweet smells and it draped over him like a large, fluffy blanket. Sometime in the past hour, Pinky had wormed his way into Brain’s lap, his head resting on top of his folded arms and sleeping soundly. The tips of his ears twitched occasionally, tickling Brain’s chin, and it took a great deal of self restraint on his part to keep from swatting them away.

Instead, he settled for setting his hand gently on the top of the other’s head, petting him idly and praying he wouldn’t wake up. Pinky’s fur was almost supernaturally soft for a mouse, and for being as long as he was, had managed to cuddle up snugly to Brain’s body. He was practically a heated blanket, and Brain thought that at this rate, he’d be lulled to sleep in no time at all, a welcome turn of events.

Pinky stirred beneath him, Brain stilled his hand immediately. The other mouse was clearly awake now, but showed no indication that he would be moving anytime soon. Brain was considering going back to his petting, when Pinky yawned, and spoke.

“Y’know, I had the strangest dream just now, you were in it, and so were Margaret and Dick Clark-” he started groggily before Brain cut him off.

“Simon Says close your mouth before I am overwhelmed by urges of violence.” Brain rushed out, having no wish to relive that particular nightmare. 

Pinky snorted, but obediently followed the binding laws of Simon Says.

A beat of silence.

Then a garbled, muffly voice, and Brain could only assume that Pinky was yet again attempting speech without utilizing his mouth. The mumbling paused, lifting in pitch towards the end, and he considered his friend’s suggestion seriously.

“Actually Pinky, a cup of tea sounds wonderful right now, it should help us rest in preparation for tomorrow night.”

Another questioning mumble. Pinky’s tail subtly wrapped itself around Brain’s.

“The same thing we do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aYYYY WE MADE IT FOLKS, THIS BABY IS FINISHED
> 
> seriously thanks so much for reading this whole thing, i'm truly amazed at how many people liked this fic. and commenters!! you guys are the most wonderful people to ever exist and i love all of you.
> 
> anyway, i hope the ending was satisfactory, to be honest there wasn't going to even be an epilogue originally, i just felt bad about leaving it at chapter 3 so i wrote one in shdjkhskjfd. and is god awful pickup line pinky canon? no, but i feel like he should be so he's here now
> 
> i sincerely hope you enjoyed this fic, and if you feel up to it, let me know what you thought about it! feedback makes my day, and i'm not an experienced writer so the more i can learn the better.
> 
> thanks for reading, stay safe!


End file.
